


Guns in the Summertime

by mresundance



Series: Standalone Trans Fics [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Hannibal, Dirty Talk, FTM Will, Gunplay, Handcuffs, M/M, Police Uniforms, Roleplay, Top Will, Trans Male Character, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1973154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mresundance/pseuds/mresundance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will notices the way Hannibal is looking at him. He smiles, and it's all white, sharp teeth as he draws his sidearm.</p><p>"Do you like the uniform?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guns in the Summertime

It's only because it's too sweltering to do anything else that Hannibal finds Will's uniforms.

Though they returned from their early morning swim and showered hours ago, moisture beads Hannibal's skin beneath his short-sleeved white button-up and khakis. Will, flopped on his bed in little more than his boxer-briefs and a t-shirt, thumbs through an article on forensic anthropology. His hair curls fiendishly in the humidity, nose and cheeks reddened from the earlier sun. If their joint body heat wouldn't have been overwhelming, Hannibal would lean down, press his face to Will's throat, and enjoy the salty, masculine smell of him. 

Will's like a Norman Rockwell painting, Hannibal thinks as shuffles through a few books on fishing. He doesn't really admire Norman Rockwell as a painter -- so prosaic really -- but there is something of Rockwell's coarse and centered masculinity in Will. Will's maleness is solid and reassuring as touching the stony bottom of a deep, wide river. Hannibal has always found that attractive. 

It's also a strange, intimate comfort to explore the man's house while he is right here. Hannibal rifles through Will's closet, enjoying how the dark smell of Will, something like fallen leaves and wood-smoke, plumes up from all the collared shirts, plaid, and sweaters. In the back he finds two crisp uniforms, and they must be from Will's years as a homicide detective in New Orleans. 

"Will, why do you have two uniforms. In different sizes?" Hannibal asks. 

"Oh," Will looks up. "The smaller one is from when I started on the force. The second one was after I transitioned."

"You transitioned on the job?" Hannibal asks after a minute. He wonders why he never knew this and feels intensely angry at Will for not telling him sooner, and angry at himself for not figuring it out. But it gives way to curiosity. 

"Yeah," Will says, with that sarcastic smile which tells Hannibal that it was certainly not an easy thing for him to do. "I was the first officer to transition on the job like that. We tried to keep it quiet, but it got out after awhile and a bunch of perps I'd put away had a field day with that. Tried to have their verdicts overturned because clearly the detective in charge was too crazy to do his job right. Oh right, excuse me, _her_ job."

There is a tremor of hurt, and anger, but he shrugs.

Hannibal picks up the smaller uniform and can't fit Will into it -- it is far too small for the man he knows. It amuses him, because he finds this so utterly baffling. Even though, as a medical doctor and a psychologist, he has a good theoretical understanding of what testosterone does to the body, seeing proof of it is another thing entirely. 

"What are you smiling about?" Will stands and joins Hannibal. 

"You're remarkable," Hannibal answers. 

Will rolls his eyes. "Not any more than anyone else."

"Lesser men would flee from their own truth, Will," he says. 

"Maybe. I did what I had to do to live. Just like anybody," Will looks at the uniform. "It really is small isn't it?" He holds it against his body, as if modeling the outfit. He laughs. 

"I forgot how big my shoulders got in the first few years," he says, replacing the older uniform and picking up the larger, more recent one. "This one is even a little small now."

He begins to put it on. Hannibal feels like Will has pulled open his own body and exposed a bundle of nerves. There is something almost humbling about watching Will don his old uniform, about the offhand way he talks about his transition and his struggles. It pleases Hannibal, that Will trusts him so. It is also erotic, a sort of transformation in reverse, from rumpled, half dressed FBI profiler to a sharp, slightly softer, and younger homicide detective. Though the fabric of the uniform strains against Will's shoulders and chest, and his pants droop, Hannibal's cock twitches as Will puts on his old holster and sheathes his side-arm. 

"Yeah, wow, that is tight in the shoulders. But then my stomach -- I gained a lot of weight and it all went to my stomach then," Will chortles. "And my ass shrank." He notices the way Hannibal is looking at him. He smiles, and it's all white, sharp teeth as he draws his sidearm.

"Do you like the uniform?" 

Hannibal has a brief vision of Will, gun cocked, the Louisiana sun pouring over his brick solid shoulders, and nods. 

"On you, yes," he answers. 

Will smirks. 

"Get in the bed," he points with the gun. 

Hannibal hesitates. 

"The gun's empty. I cleaned it earlier and checked the chamber. The magazine's in my desk drawer," Will says. He shows Hannibal the empty space for the magazine, and checks the chamber again.

"Thank you Will," Hannibal says before climbing into bed. 

"I think I need to search you," Will says and Hannibal has to stop himself from smiling. "You look like an extremely dangerous man, and I found you just loitering around a house that's not even yours."

"Indeed," Hannibal says. "I could easily be mistaken for a burglar in such circumstances." 

"You're kinda sucking at this roleplay thing Hannibal." 

"But officer, I didn't intend to take anything that wasn't already mine," Hannibal flicks his eyes up and down the length of Will's lean, muscular body, and notices a small shudder of desire.

"Face down in the bed," Will barks. "Keep your hands up where I can see them."

Hannibal complies, enjoying how the knot of control which is always coiled tightly in his gut begins to unspool. 

"Spread your legs," Will says. Hannibal does so, clumsily, so Will has to force his thighs open with his knee. He feels Will grope roughly, up and down his legs, cupping his ass and his groin, and then finally relieving him of his wallet. He throws it on the nightstand after a minute.

"Well Mr. Lecture, what's your business here in Wolf Trap?"

"Dr. Lecture, if you don't mind. And I was visiting a friend."

"Doctor," Will mocks, and for a moment Hannibal wants to grab Will's face and pull the skin right off. But Will starts grinding himself against Hannibal's ass, and Hannibal feels the gun sliding between his thighs. 

"My friend who is my lover, in point of fact," Hannibal shudders as Will climbs on top of him. The other man's breath is wet and hot against his throat as he handcuffs Hannibal's wrists. 

"I advise you to stop talking," Will growls, biting the back of Hannibal's neck. The gun presses against Hannibal's ass and Will thrusts his hips as if he intends to fuck Hannibal with the gun. The prospect makes Hannibal hard, even if there are no bullets involved. 

"Turn over."

Will slides off and Hannibal rolls over. It takes a moment for him to find his breathing again. In the afternoon sun, sweat gleams down Will's throat and chest. There is something feral in his eyes too, the way he hefts his body and leverages the gun. When Will smiles is it maniacal; Hannibal thinks again of what a beautiful man he is. 

Will keeps the gun pointed at Hannibal as he unbuttons Hannibal's shirt. He runs the barrel over his skin, through his coarse grey and brown chest hair, down his belly and navel. His belt comes off next, and then his khakis. He's naked except for his boxers as Will turns him over and slides the gun between his ass cheeks, thrusting against him. 

"Officer," Hannibal manages as his cock throbs. 

" _Detective_ Graham," Will growls. 

"Please, detective --"

"Please what?" Will grabs Hannibal's hair and jerks his head back with just enough strength to be uncomfortable, but not painful. 

"Please don't hurt me," Hannibal says. 

Will laughs. "You don't have much control here, do you?"

He runs the gun up Hannibal's spine and caresses his shoulders and throat. The metal is hot as their skin now, and Hannibal feels like his flesh will start blistering beneath the barrel. 

"I'll do anything you want," Hannibal gasps. "Please don't hurt me detective."

The gun slides around until the tip presses against Hannibal's lips. 

"Suck it," Will says, and his voice shakes with fear or longing; Hannibal can't entirely tell. He opens his mouth and lets the gun slide between his lips, tonguing the opening like he would tongue Will's cock, hollows his cheeks against the metal. 

Will makes a noise but Hannibal can't really see his face from this angle. So he fellates the gun for a few minutes, satisfied when he begins to smell Will's wet arousal. 

Will takes the gun out of Hannibal's mouth. Pulling off Hannibal's boxers, he slides the slippery gun right against his hole. Hannibal tenses, then relaxes, and Will simply circles his hole with the gun, exerting light but intense pressure.

"Is this okay?" Will whispers. 

"Yes," Hannibal says after a minute. 

Finally Will discards the gun, and lays himself back atop Hannibal, his clothing rough as he kisses and caresses Hannibal's naked body. The heat of arousal and dominance wafts off him and it's a thousand times more intoxicating than the finest wine. Hannibal allows himself to melt into Will's touch. As Will pushes his lubed thumb in, the knot of control has not just unspooled, but frayed into thousands of helpless little pieces that will never draw back together. Hannibal makes a sound and spreads his legs wider as he's breached. Will's fingers cradle and squeeze his balls and his cock as he fucks Hannibal with his thumb. The pressure is red, insistent, and almost painful. Will leans down, aligning his hips with his thumb and then pushing. The extra weight of his body makes Hannibal ache. 

"Will," he pants as the other man withdraws his thumb. 

"Detective Graham," Will pushes two fingers into Hannibal. He's still aligned with his hips like he is fucking Hannibal with his own cock, and, in a way, he is. Maybe they are using their imaginations, but they both know the power of the mind to make something irrevocably real. 

"Detective --" 

"Tell me how much you like that dick in you," Will thrusts. 

"I love having your cock inside me, detective."

"Do you?"

"I love feeling my asshole stretch open for you detective," Hannibal continues. "I love feeling you inside me. I love how hard you -- fuck me --" he gasps after a particularly rough thrust. 

"You like it hard?" Will bites his shoulder. 

"Oh yes. Oh yes, please, detective."

Will tries sliding a third finger in, but Hannibal shakes his head at that -- too much -- and Will goes back to using only the two. He thrusts hard and fast enough that Hannibal sees orange and red spots in his vision and his body tightens with the building pleasure and pressure. When he comes he lets out a long, low moan and shudders, sinking down into the sheets, feeling hot, wet, and pleasantly filthy. Will's body is a scalding, reassuring weight.

Will carefully removes his fingers and leaves. Hannibal hears the water in the bathroom running as he washes his hands, and wonders what Will has in store for them next.

"Well, doctor," Will says, returning and rolling Hannibal onto his back. "Do you want to go home now, without being detained for breaking and entering?"

"Yes detective," Hannibal says. 

"You're gonna have to suck my dick and make me come," Will says, unbuckling his belt, and unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. 

"Yes detective," Hannibal responds. 

"Shut up," Will says, pulling his boxer briefs off and pushing Hannibal's face to his cock. 

It's awkward at first, with Hannibal still handcuffed, and they shuffle around trying to find a good position, until Will is half splayed, cradling Hannibal's shoulders and neck as he bends down and takes Will in his mouth. 

At first Hannibal is tentative -- more tentative than he has ever been with Will -- as if he is afraid. When Will's fingers tighten in Hannibal's hair and he says "Suck harder," Hannibal takes his whole cock in his mouth and enjoys feeling Will's body tense. 

"Do you like that detective?" Hannibal pauses. 

"Did I tell you to stop?" Will growls. 

Hannibal resumes sucking, and begins to hum arias. Will gasps. If Hannibal's hands were not cuffed, it would be tempting to slide a finger into the other man's wet front hole, but perhaps later. For now he sucks Will. He takes his whole cock in and swirls his tongue at that sensitive spot right below the head, until Will comes, shaking and moaning. Hannibal keeps sucking Will through the aftershocks too, until he finally pushes him away, saying it's too much, he's too sensitive, stop, stop. 

Satisfied, Hannibal fishes the handcuff keys out of the nightstand. Freed, he lies alongside Will, but they don't touch yet, and the bed sheets stick to their slick, sweaty bodies. 

"Next time you should tie me up," Hannibal suggests as he unbuttons the rest of Will's shirt and runs his tongue from his navel to his collarbone, just to taste. 

"Oh yeah?" Will asks, voice wedged deep down in his throat. Hannibal kisses him, pushing his tongue into Will's mouth and sucking on his lips, just so Will can know what he tastes like.

"Mmm," Will says and Hannibal presses his face to Will's shoulder. 

They are quiet for a time. Hannibal hears the absent scratching of the dogs in the living room, some of them undoubtedly trying and failing to nap in the stifling heat. He traces the lines of shadows over the ceiling and notices, with a soft despair, that it really isn't that much later in the day, and it will still be hot for many, many hours. 

Will curls his fingers in Hannibal's chest hair.

"Why did we even have sex, it's too hot," Will laughs. Hannibal agrees. 

"I guess next time . . ." Will says. "Well, I could bind you and gag you, and have your knees on my shoulders while I slowly fuck your sore little asshole with your favorite cock. That glass one with the studs, right?"

Hannibal feels flush all over again and suddenly the heat is suffocating for an entirely different reason. 

"It is rather too hot to do much else," he says after a moment. 

"Oh definitely," Will says wryly.

**Author's Note:**

> The title was borrowed from the Lana Del Rey song [Florida Kilos](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FY0mQpttlM) because it is a super sexy song and it was my soundtrack while writing this. 
> 
> This was inspired by [this fanwork](http://nowwheresmynut.tumblr.com/post/91205220721/i-know-you-wanted-new-orleans-cop-will-graham-i) by [nowwheresmynut](http://nowwheresmynut.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr and [Deviantart](http://nowwheresmynut.deviantart.com/art/Hannibal-Hands-up-466675664). Will is so gorgeous and hot in it and I just couldn't get the image of him in uniform out of my head. 
> 
> (And [OMG OMG OMG OMG IT'S A MUUUUUG](http://society6.com/nowwheresmynut/hands-up-9fu_mug#27=199) *flails*.)
> 
> The gun in the fic is Will's sidearm via the FBI, not from his years as homicide detective. And obviously the gun will need to be cleaned afterwards. I don't actually recommend pseudo-sodomizing your lover with a gun, LOL.


End file.
